


A Chance Encounter

by SidheLives



Series: Harlequin Eyes [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidheLives/pseuds/SidheLives
Summary: A sudden unexpected noise halted him as it broke through the babble of running water. It wasn't immediately evident where the sound had emerged from, but it had sounded like the whine of an injured animal and his curiosity peaked.The sound came again, a breathy mewl, and Solas pinpointed its source. It was a human sound, he realized, one that was distantly familiar to him but he could not identify why. Carefully, making as little sound as possible, he pushed aside a low hanging branch to see the center of the small glade. As he did, he realized why the noise was familiar to him an instant before he heard what was obviously a woman's pleasured moan and his eyes caught on the sound's origin.
Relationships: Solas/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Solas/Trevelyan (Dragon Age), The Iron Bull/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), The Iron Bull/Trevelyan (Dragon Age)
Series: Harlequin Eyes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980208
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: Fen'Harem's Dragon Age Kinktober 2020





	A Chance Encounter

For all its tragic history, the Emerald Graves was beautiful.

Solas walked alone between the massive trees, the soft, moss inundated grass brushing pleasantly against his toes. He had read a great deal of the location and what had transpired there, even consulted spirits regarding it, but seeing it was something different entirely. It was peaceful and haunting, the way only nature reclaiming something destroyed could be. The Herald,  _ Inquisitor _ Trevelyan now, had brought them in search of a man named Fairbanks; discovering open Fade Rifts in the area had changed their focus, and they now camped among the trees which gave the place its name. He had decided much earlier in the day that he would retire early and use the opportunity to explore the memories of the enigmatic place, but as their meager meal had completed and the Inquisitor's companions had dissipated for the evening, he found himself drawn to experience the land, which had become touched with gold and violet by dusk. Scout Harding had expressed concern for his safety as he had departed the camp, a notion he had been forced to suppress his amusement at. She had relented at his insistence, however, and now the fires of the camp burned just out of sight as he meandered. 

He let his hands brush over the ancient tree bark, feeling the jagged scars of age which marred them, but deep within the hum of life: still strong, still growing. The thick canopy of leaves overhead occasionally broke, allowing the sunset streaked sky to peek through into the underbrush, dappling the grasses with light. Fragrant Arbor Blessing and Embrium perfumed the air with their delicate scents, mixing with the deep smell of oak and moss. It was strong enough that Solas could taste the pungent growth along with the moisture in the air rising up from the nearby river, which cascaded musically over some unseen fall. Bird songs came from high above and nearby some creature, a badger or fox, rustled through the undergrowth. It was serene, and Solas felt calm, more calm than he had in a long while. Months of being surrounded on all sides by short-lived mortals who rushed about, impetuous and hot-blooded, had shaken him. The constant play-acting he was forced to engage in to keep attention away from his own machinations was beginning to overtake the wolf which lay behind the sheep's clothes. It frightened him, the way these simple beings could catch his attention and hold it with such force. But alone among the trees he could, for a moment, remind himself of who he truly was: Fen'Harel, The Dread Wolf, the man who would bring a reckoning to this blind and muted world even if it destroyed him. Once the situation with the undying magister was resolved and he reclaimed the power of his orb he could shake off the disguise; everything would be clearer then.

He turned, reverie at an end, and headed back towards the Inquisition camp, but a sudden unexpected noise halted him as it broke through the babble of running water. It wasn't immediately evident where the sound had emerged from, but it had sounded like the whine of an injured animal and his curiosity peaked. An injured animal, particularly one of a size that could produce a sound so loud, could indicate a large predator encroaching on the camp's position. Fate had decreed that any threat to the Inquisitor was ultimately a threat to Solas's plans, so regardless of his personal feelings for the woman, he decided that investigating was necessary.

It was a simple task to slide silently through the thickening copse towards where he believed the sound had emerged from, crouching slightly to avoid the notice of the imagined hunter. The sound came again, a breathy mewl, and Solas pinpointed its source. It was a human sound, he realized, one that was distantly familiar to him but he could not identify why. Carefully, making as little sound as possible, he pushed aside a low hanging branch to see the center of the small glade. As he did, he realized why the noise was familiar to him an instant before he heard what was obviously a woman's pleasured moan and his eyes caught on the sound's origin.

The Inquisitor's pale neck was stretched back, The Iron Bull roughly pulling her tousled golden hair. The creamy skin of her breasts spilled over the fallen log which she had been bent over, her slightly moist, pink nipples catching the fading sunlight. Bull drove his hips forward as he held her, the hand not lost in her voluminous locks braced on her lower back. She cried out, the sound cascading across the intervening space to strike Solas's ears. He could not tear his eyes away as Bull began to drive ever more ferociously into her, tearing gasps and moans from her swan-like throat. Solas had the sudden desire for it to be him holding her down, his hand wound into her hair, his cock thrusting inside of her, for the sounds she made to be because of him. He felt himself stiffen at the thought, leggings pulling taut, and his tongue snaked along his bottom lip. 

A rational portion of his brain objected. She was a human: a headstrong, insufferable human who did nothing but irk him at every turn. She was  _ not _ an object of desire. Yet there she was, spread like a feast and he could not stop himself from salivating at the sight of her. Solas felt an illogical envy rise in him, outrage that she would allow the brutish, mindless Qunari to take her.

As if drawn by his lascivious thoughts, the woman’s green eyes flashed to meet his. Green as the Breach, and just as dangerous. Surprise caught her features for a moment, then a wicked smile turned her full lips. Solas held her gaze as Bull thrust again and her knuckles went white gripping the bark below her and a deep moan tore from her lips.  _ Desdemona _ . A demon even in name, tempting him as no entity of the Fade ever had. She arched her back, angling her chest to better display her breasts, and Solas found himself imagining their pliable flesh beneath his teeth. He shook the image off and saw laughter in her eyes, then Bull pulled her hair harder and she gasped, her harlequin eyes rolling back. 

Being released from her gaze broke the spell holding Solas’s legs in place and he stumbled backward as if struck. Hastily, he fled the copse and its contents, Desdemona’s sensuous cries chasing him into the dark. He forcibly reminded himself of her many faults: she was impulsive, quick to anger, vengeful, she drank too much and too often, spent far too much time with Sera, her jaw was too sharp, she had broken her nose at Haven and it had healed in a way that disrupted the symmetry of her face, the scar above her left brow drew focus away from her brilliant eyes…

Solas stumbled again, cursing himself and the malachite eyed woman. Even her faults seemed to highlight the ways in which she had subconsciously stolen his attention. What reason had he to notice the symmetry of her features? He stomped the rest of the way to camp, ignoring all attempts at communication, teeth grinding the whole way. Despite his efforts, his body was not convinced, and he could still see her enraptured face on the back of his eyelids. 

The Inquisitor was a larger threat than he had imagined. Until Corypheus was defeated he would have to be cautious to avoid further undue temptation.

Collapsing into his bedroll, Solas's hands tentatively brushed over the uncomfortable stiffness in his trousers. Another annoyance, a complication caused by the detestable woman. He ignored the whisper in his mind that suggested she should clean up her own mess, and the accompanying images which proposed how she could go about such a task. He opted instead to bury his face into his pillow, hands pressed between his chest and the hard ground to keep them still. He would not give her even the unknown victory of imagining her while relieving himself.

Solas would rather suffer.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt - Voyeurism


End file.
